


The Fourth-and-a-Halfth Cataclysm

by Laura Kaye (laurakaye)



Category: Ghostbusters (2016), Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurakaye/pseuds/Laura%20Kaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After New York was nearly destroyed and Phil Coulson was nearly killed, his boss gave him a new assignment as SHIELD liaison to the team of unlikely heroes who saved everyone.</p>
<p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of scenes taking place in the same universe, but it isn't a proper story yet. I was originally intending to keep this on Tumblr until I was ready to give it the full treatment, but I have been asked to post it to the Archive to make it easier for people to follow when I add new bits.
> 
> It's quite likely that the order of chapters may change as I add things, and the whole piece is subject to revision if I decide to give it an overarching plot, but I hope you enjoy some little glimpses of Phil among the Ghostbusters in the meantime.

“No,” Phil said,  “absolutely not.”

“I don’t remember asking you,” the Director said. “Phil, listen. A group of loose cannons with no official government oversight are running around with what are essentially weapons of mass destruction built in someone’s garage, and they just used those weapons to save New York City in front of millions of eyewitnesses. We need them contained and cooperative but we also need them to keep working in case it happens again.”

“Homeland Security—”

“Already shit the bed on this and you know it. Come on, Phil, you can’t say you don’t want to work with them. I know how much you admire—”

“Yes, all right, fine, no need to rub it in.” Phil scrubbed his face with his hands—or tried to; the motion caught him with a stab of pain as he moved his left arm, and he couldn’t hide his startled wince.

“And there’s another thing,” Fury continued. “You know you’re riding a desk until you finish rehab. Would you really rather be stuck processing paperwork for the next couple of months? And I know you like the weird shit.”

Phil sighed. “All right, fine,” he said. “You win, boss. But when this is over…”

“Talk to me about that when you can lift your left arm higher than your head again, and we’ll see,” Fury said, then his voice softened. “You’re one of my best, Coulson, but I need you back to full strength. And SHIELD needs eyes on these people, you know this. It could be disastrous for everyone if—well. Let’s just say we’d rather maintain a positive relationship. After what just happened to the city, our contingency planning has had to get a whole lot broader.”

* * *

Phil stepped out of the cab, looking up at the building before him. It must be nice to be well funded. At least at this job, maybe he wouldn’t have to buy his own pens to get something that wrote without skipping. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and went inside.

New York’s saviors were sprawled out around a high table, eating pizza around heaps of detritus that included circuit boards, a lit blowtorch, several paper blueprints, half-empty coffee cups, and what appeared to be some sort of shotgun that was glowing an unsettling shade of blue.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said, meeting each set of eyes as he looked around the table. “Dr. Gilbert? Dr. Yates? Dr. Holtzmann? Ms. Tolan? I’m Agent Phil Coulson, and I’m your new liaison from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.” 

 


	2. Kevin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Did you just... give that man a cookie?"

“What the everloving _fuck_ , Coulson,” Fury said, sweeping in past the reception desk with a billow of his coat. 

Phil sighed quietly. He supposed it was too much to hope that the debacle in Bed-Stuy wouldn’t have gotten back to the Director.

“Sir,” he said mildly, nodding at Fury, who was looming over Phil’s desk with his arms crossed. 

“When I said—”

“Boss!” Kevin said. Fury looked over at him in irritation, then did an actual, literal double-take: it was the most beautiful thing Phil had seen in at least five years.

“A moment, please?” Phil asked politely, and Fury nodded, blinking rapidly at Kevin. Phil was, just possibly, a tiny bit smug. But he couldn’t take the time to enjoy watching his boss in a rare moment of discombobulation; certain things had to be immediate if they were to be effective. 

He pushed his chair back a little and turned.  “Yes, Kevin?”

“You have a visitor,” Kevin said proudly. 

“Thank you, Kevin, I will see him now.”

Kevin turned brightly to Fury. “He can see you now,” he said. “Would you like some coffee?”

Phil cleared his throat.

“…bottled water?” Kevin amended.

“No,” Fury said slowly. He shot a disbelieving look Phil’s way.

“Please, have a seat, Director,” Phil said, waving at the chair in front of his desk. He pulled a  baggie out of his coat pocket, took out a small brown square, and handed it to Kevin. “Thank you, Kevin, you can go.”

“Thanks, boss!” Kevin said, popping it into his mouth. He wandered back to his own desk, chewing. He stopped in the middle to do an impromptu dance—Phil thought it was the Nae Nae, but he was woefully out of touch since he’d been out of the field—but he made it back to his desk this time, so Phil considered it a win.

“Phil,” Fury said.

“Sir?”

“Did you just… give that man a cookie?”

“It’s a no-carb high-protein fiber snack bite,” Phil said. “Would you like one? I made them myself.”

“No I would not like one, don’t change the subject,” Fury said. “ _Why_ did you give that man a disgusting health cookie?” 

“Positive reinforcement,” Phil said. “You know I’m a big believer in staff development."

“He’s a receptionist, not a puppy,” Fury said. Behind them, there was a clatter and a bang, followed by an aggrieved-sounding “ow!” 

Fury turned. Kevin was hopping on one leg, having apparently—somehow—stapled a sheaf of papers to his thigh. Fury turned back to Phil.

Phil raised an eyebrow.

“You know what,” Fury said. “I don’t want to know.” He was silent for a moment, then sighed in disgust. “Okay, fine, I do want to know. Why do you have an Avenger lookalike at your front desk?”

“Kevin has been working with the Ghostbusters since the beginning,” Phil said. “He’s very committed to the mission. He even got a new set of headshots last week depicting him as a Ghostbuster.” He had been shirtless, and wearing his very own proton pack, the one Holtzmann had given him for his birthday that had a bunch of brightly-colored LEDs and a laser pointer instead of anything that might actually explode. “He’s very proud.”

“And I suppose it’s just a coincidence that he’s the spitting image of an Avenger.” 

“Who, Cap? Maybe superficially, but I don’t think it’s that close.” Phil bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep a straight face.

The look Fury shot him could have curdled milk. “No. Thor.”

“Surely not, sir. Why, Kevin has glasses. And he’s Australian.” Phil tilted his head and made a show of looking over at Kevin, who obliged him by yanking the stapler out of his leg and hitting himself in the face with it.

“Ouch!” he bellowed, then dropped the stapler and covered his eyes.

“Also,” Phil said, “I’m not sure I’d trust Kevin with a hammer.”

Fury sighed. “Fine,” he said. “You’ve made your point.”

“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Phil told him. “I admit I had my doubts about this assignment, but it’s proven to be a refreshing challenge.”

“Only you, Coulson, would look around this madhouse and call it a refreshing challenge.”

“That _is_ why you hired me, sir.” From upstairs, he heard a muffled explosion, and then the hissing sound of a fire extinguisher and a voice—Abby, he thought—yelling “Phil! Can you bring up the backup containment kit?”

“If you’ll excuse me, Director,” he said, rising, already reaching for the lead-lined briefcase next to his desk. Acid-green smoke was starting to curl down from the upper level.

Fury rolled his eye. “Go,” he said.  

Phil pulled on his gas mask, and started up the stairs.

Sometimes he really loved this job.

**Author's Note:**

> People have asked me, "Is Clint going to be in this?" To which I reply:
> 
> THERE IS NO BARTON, ONLY ZUUL.
> 
> :)


End file.
